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Thursday, February 28, 2013

Two
weeks ago we had a huge buzzard dump 21 inches of snow on our little
house. I was upset because my grassy pee and poop place had been
covered up by snow six Foleys high, but what upset me more was the delay
in delivery of the long awaited book by my friend Hobo Hudson: The Richest Dog in Town.On
Saturday Daddy said he was not checking the mail because of the storm.
I told him he had to, Hobo’s book might be there, but he wouldn’t
listen. On Sunday, after digging out our house and checking on Grampy
Daddy came home with the mail, and wouldn’t you know it, amongst it was
my copy of The Richest Dog in Town. I took it from him huffily and went
into my kitty condo to read.First
all, I must mention the cover: A grinning Hobo with his paws around
stacks of coins, lovingly drawn by my good friend Zoe Boe’s mom Aunt
Connie Gross. She caught the marvelous mischievous and loving gleam in
his eyes.Like
all great memories Hobo balances his story between laughs and tears.
The tears come early as Hobo, a dog with great potential and the
capacity for tremendous love and loyalty in his heart, bounces from one
home to another, and, through a series of misfortunes too well known to
neglected dogs he spends his early years alone, tied to a tree.Every
day a kind couple would stop on their walk to speak to Hobo, and soon
these stops became extended, and Hobo’s owner, who could not let him
live in his house, struck up a conversation with the couple and soon
Hobo was with his forever parents’ Bruny and Walter. He found his
parents’ were cat people but, except for one brief frightful night when
his former owners came to visit and he thought he was being returned,
Hobo has lived a happy life.A
clever little terrier Hobo notices that cat claws have the capacity to
shred clothing, and seeing that local teens enjoy wearing shredded
clothes, builds a successful business in the making of shredded jeans.
After a problem with his attorney, a one (checking notes) Foley
Monster, he is forced to sell his company which makes him the Richest
Dog in Town.From
there Hobo’s adventures are just beginning as he continues
investigating profitable endeavors including a cruise ship for dogs and
their families and the start of a dog university while also trying to
deal with the human world as he attempts to takes his cat secretaries to
dinner at an upscale restaurant, tries to buy his Mom a washer, and
ends up embroiled with his Dad’s court fight with the elf who lives in
his computer. Hobo also takes the secret codes from a drunken Foley
Monster (there is that name again) and travels through the ducts that
make up the Internet visiting friends and ending up in Cuba where his
quest for cigars leads to another economic opportunity.Through
it all Hobo shows us that, to be a successful dog, and more importantly
a rich and successful man, one only needs to listen to man’s best
friend.

Sunday, February 24, 2013

Oh
what a week our friend Chelsea Johnson had this past week. But this
week was the end and we need to start at the beginning, not her
beginning, but the beginning of the troubles, where many of our blogs
begin.

The
beginning of the troubles usually start with a lump. Finding lumps
are never a good thing, unless it is a lump of money, and, even then,
if it comes in a lump, it usually is discarded drug money, which means
if you take it the Dixie Mafia is going to be after you, and you don’t
want the Dixie Mafia after you.

Chelsea
had a lump on her front leg at the elbow. The doctors did a test in
January. They took blood from her leg but could not tell if the lump was
Stage One, Stage Two, or Stage Three. The doctors hoped that, since
Chelsea had the lump for six months, it would be stage one which would
be benign. They were also worried because they would have to remove the
lump and two centimeters around it to make sure they got the entire
infected area, but, because the lump was at the narrowest part of the
leg the surgery would be very delicate.

And
then there were the kibbles. Surgeries like this don’t come cheap,
even though I am not sure why. Dogtors seem to get a lot more money if
they are cutting us up then if they are feeling us up. A janitor gets
paid the same amount if he’s washing the floor or tiling the floor but I
guess it’s different when it comes to doctors. And, if a dogtor is
cutting your nails and it bleeds the gauze he uses to stop the bleeding
is free but if he uses the same gauze when you are being operated on
then the gauze costs lots of money. It’s a human thing. I don’t
understand it. If I could find a dog I trusted with operating on me I
would use them, until then we are subjected to the will of humans, and
that means any operation costs lots of kibbles.

On
Thursday Chelsea was finally scheduled for surgery. At the same time
Mother Nature decided it would be a good time to send a Buzzard to dump
tons of snow on the house Chelsea shared with her Mom. If ever a Mom
had reason for a big case of the nervous nerves it was Chelsea’s Mom
Aunt Kristi, who, after waiting weeks for the surgery, had to hope it
would not get rescheduled because of the storm, that she could make it
to the vet’s, and got her baby home.

On
Thursday she got Chelsea to the vet for the surgery but then it became
hurry up and wait. They were doing some other surgeries first and
then would do Chelsea’s so poor Aunt Kristi had lots of nervous
waiting.

The
doctor had said Chelsea would be operated on mid afternoon but there
was another phone call, an emergency had come in and Chelsea’s surgery
was pushed back again.

After
10:00 Aunt Kristi finally go the call she had been waiting on.
Chelsea was out of surgery and was doing good. She was awake and
walking around. The surgery was a success.

Because
of the Buzzard Chelsea had to stay at the vet and her Mom worried
about her because that’s what Mom’s do when we are at the vets. The
Governor got a message from me representing Chelsea and I told him to
make sure the roads between Aunt Kristi’s house and the vet’s were
clear. Knowing my reputation, and how important Aunt Kristi and
Chelsea are, he made sure the Aunt Kristi could make it to the vet the
next day.

On
Friday the dogtor told Aunt Kristi that she could pick up Chelsea at
1;30 Central Buzzard time. Chelsea was able to help the dogtor in
checking the incision by opening the covering. The incision looked good
to him. She was coming home with tranquilizers (this is my second
Sunday blog about a dog who was sent home after an operation with
tranquilizers. I have Pocket studying if the vets are secretly trying
to drug us into oblivion. We will report back to you.) along with pain
meds and benedryl.

Finally
she got home and was resting in her own recuperation room at the
house. She needed to stay still. The less she walked the better.
Before Chelsea got to break all the simple rules laid out for her her
Mom kept her busy by feeding her pill after pill to keep her out of
pain and calm.

Chelsea
had a good night Friday, despite some whining. Her leg wasn’t
bothering her. Aunt Kristi spent time in Chelsea’s recuperation room to
comfort her. On Saturday Chelsea ripped off the plastic covering her
bandage and had to go back to the vet to get it put on the wrap again.
She is not wearing the cone of shame but does have a no bite collar
that keeps her from biting the plastic or the wrap.

Chelsea
is still going to need prayers. First we are awaiting the biopsy and
we need to all pray it is B9. Then we need to pray for her full
recovery. And that they survive the Buzzard that is hitting them again
Monday. Just lots of prayers for Chelsea. But don’t bet against her,
she has already defeated a Buzzard and surgery, and if you can beat
both Mother Nature and Father Health Care you can beat almost anything.

Thursday, February 21, 2013

As
most of you know my favorite things are chasing my ball, eating, and
snuggling with any available human. I include sleeping under the
heading of snuggling with any human. First comes the snuggling, and
then I drift off to sleep. I do prefer a simple life.I
have a complicated set of rules when it comes to chasing my balls. If
my ball rolls to certain spots I run back to Daddy and look up at him
with my: “I ain’t touching that ball there” eyes which are really
effective eyes.Then
Daddy has to go and get the ball himself, bring it back to the throwing
area, and throw it again. Hopefully it doesn’t land on those
impossible to land spots which I wrote about earlier, or the scary
sports that I want nothing to do with.These are some of the scary spots:By
the vents: There is a dragon that lives under our house. When is it
cold out it blows hot air. When it’s hot it blows cold air. I know it
is blowing air as a warning. If I go near it the dragon is either going
to blow fire and kill me or reach up with it’s tail and pull me down.
I don’t want either one of those things to happen to me so I send Daddy
because he’s too big to be dragged down or to burn.By
the water dish: I don’t like to have my teeth or my paws touch the
water dish. I can stand and lick the water from the bowl without
touching the rim. But when I have to get the bowl with my claws it
sends shivers down my spine and if my teeth clang against medal I think I
am getting tortured by a Nazi Dentist.In a corner or along the baseboard: Nobody puts Pocket in a corner!Near
any electrical cord: One thing that Foley has taught me, if you bite
an electrical cord you will never forget it. I don’t want to try to
pick up a ball, miscalculate my bite and explode like a Russian meteor,Under
the bed: I sleep in the bed with my Mommy, Daddy and Foley. The three
of them pass a lot of wind while they are in there. I know where that
stinky wind goes. It goes under the bed. Ugh! No thank you. I
hope for you young pups who play ball inside your house that these tips
will come in handy and give you a safe and happy ball playing
experience.

Sunday, February 17, 2013

We
all have secrets we keep from our Mom and Dad. We don’t mean to keep
these secrets but there is no way for us to tell them. These secrets
have to do with our lives before we came to live with them.

Parents
don’t have the same problem. They are always telling us about what
happened in their lives, usually when we are alone with them and they
are feeling blue. But that’s what we are there for. We look up at them
with our sad brown eyes and listen with our big ears. Somehow that makes
them feel better.

But
we can’t do the same. Dogs do have the wonderful ability to live in
the moment. We are in our forever home so it’s we convince ourselves we
have always been in our forever home. But there is a little bit of
memory inside of us that we can’t suppress. When something bad happens
that little memory of our old life explodes and for a few days it makes
us The Dog Who Lives in The Past.

This
happened twice to our friend Trixie in the last two weeks. Trixie was
found wandering in a Wal-Mart parking lot and brought home by her new
Mom, our Aunt Linda. She is a wonderful Mom and Trixie could not have
found a better Mom, or better siblings in Tashi and Tiara.

But
on this day her Mom tripped going up the stairs and landed on the dogs
including Trixie. None of us know what traumas Trixie faced in her
former life but when her Mom landed on her Trixie got hurt, and then
scared. She ran under the bed and would not come out for her Mom at
all. She did, after lots of coaxing, come out for her Dad. But she was
scared of her Mom. Aunt Linda was very upset, trying to get her baby
to come to her, but poor Trixie was so scared she snapped at her Mom
when she came near. They were both broken hearted

Trixie
spent her time with her Dad and ignored Aunt Linea until finally Aunt
Linda called Hannah Banana’s Mom Kim. Thanks to Aunt Kim’s good advice
Aunt Linda began playing on the floor and giving treats to Tiara and
Tashi while their Daddy ignored Trixie. Seeing her sibling playing with
their Mom, Trixie began to trust her Mom again. One good walk alter and
everything was back to normal.

But
less than s week later Trixie got very scared again. It was time for
her to be spayed. She was nervous when her Mommy dropped her off at
the doctor’s office. Then she woke up not knowing where she was, with
her Mom nowhere to be found, and in pain. The Dog She Used to Be took
over again.

When
Trixie got home she looked for a place to hide, finding it under the
couch. She would not eat or drink, she just lay under the couch and
cried. She even refused to take her medication. The next day her Daddy
lifted the couch, her Mom threw a towel over her, and they took her
back to the vet.

Trixie
had been so scared and afraid to move she was covered in doggy
droppings and needed a bath. She also got a shot of Tramadol and some
Cittrine for her upset stomach. She was then taken home and put in her
crate so she could not hide again. The doctor suggested some Prozac for
her but her Mom felt like she needed it more.

The
next step was to place the crate in a playpen with pee pads spread out
under it. Safe inside the pen Trixie came out for water and food. The
next day she allowed her Mom to wrap her in a towel and hold her.
Every day since she has made a little progress.

It
is going to take while for Trixie to lose The Dog She Used to Be and
occasionally that pup will pop back up, but now her Mom knows how to
handle her, and how to send the The Dog She Used to Be away so Trixie
can enjoy being the Dog She Was Meant to Be.

Saturday, February 16, 2013

On
Monday and Tuesday we watched the Dog Super Bowl, the Westminster Dog
Show. Being a Yorkie, we root for our breed, and, when they are unfairly
eliminated, I root for whichever member of the Toy Group defeated them.This
year it was a little affenpinscher named Banana Joe. I quickly got over
my jealousy when I noticed something special about Joe. The proud way
he walked. The beautiful curve of his tail. That certain something that
said born leader, a big dog in a small dog world. In short, Banana Joe
reminded me of me.I
was rooting for him in the final and when he won I was ecstatic, then
when I found out that he was a Massachusetts dog, living in a town just a
few miles from my house, I was even happier. This elation soon turned
to fear when I realized that I could be the reason Banana Joe is
stripped of his title, and he probably doesn’t know did done anything
wrong.Did
you read my blog a few weeks ago about the different vets that we have
had? The vet before our new one I said was from North Attleboro and the
cost filled my Mom with sorrow. Money be darned not going to this vet
turned out to be a hellacious mistake. First, I must publish a
correction, because while he lives in North Attleboro, his clinic is in
Seekonk. And second, this vet, William Truesdale owns Banana Joe. So,
the same doctor who last year squeezed my anal glands also squeezes the
anal glands of the World’s Top Dog. My first thought was how cool is
that?And
then I thought about the chain of events. Banana Joe was just this
ordinary little house lap dog going nowhere special. Then there is me.
The only two things that have stopped me from winning best in show for
12 years running is my refusal to let my tail be cropped and that
someone flushed my ovaries.What
if Dr Truesdale squeezed my anal glands just before I left? I wasn’t
paying attention to the sequence of events. After squeezing my glands
he got special Foley juice all over his hands. Then he went into his
office without taking off his gloves where loyal Banana waited for him.
He picked up the little Affenpinscher and without anyone knowing some
of the secret juice that makes me so awesome was secreted into Banana. What
happens if they have run a blood test on Joe? Are they going to find
traces of Performance Enhancing Foley Secret Anal Juice? And if they do
are their going to strip him of his crown because of his use of PEFSAJ?
As everyone knows if you are on the juice, you’re out. So please,
Westminster humans, do not punish Joe for using PEFSAJ. He did not seek
it out and only came into contact with it because his Daddy is sloppy.(P.S.
To Hobo, the Richest Dog in Town: I am asking my Daddy Minion to
squeeze my glands every day. I am sending you the juice. Florida seems
to be a place where athletes go for performance enhancement. Please
take the juice, copy it, mass produce it and we will split the profits.
Then get ready for thousands of show dogs to come sniffing to your
door. And plan to be so Rich and Famous that by next year you will be
hosting the Celerbdog Apprentice.

Sunday, February 10, 2013

If
you have read my Mom’s whinings the last few days you will know we had a
giant buzzard hanging over our area this weekend. It parked right over
us, dumped 21 inches of wet snow, and it breathed so hard it knocked
over trees and it’s breath howled around our little home all night long.Honestly,
for Pocket and me, except for a few short trips outside to do our
business, which left us cold and wet, it was the best 24 hours of our
lives. The power went out at 7:30. For the next two and a half hours we
were able to sit peacefully with no annoying television blaring or
bright lights interfering with our napping.Then
we went to bed, the greatest bed ever. We climbed in around 10:00 and
except for a couple of trips outside we stayed snuggled in bed for
hours, with it freezing outside the bed and warm and toasty under the
covers. For us, while the cold, wet, freezing snow was quite
problematic, and the howling winds annoying, the Buzzard was Snugglefest
2013 and we wouldn’t have missed it for anything.Just
a few miles to the north of us Pokey, Maggie and Toby didn’t have as
pleasant a night. Their Mom is what is known as a “necessary person”
and she had to go to the hospital where she works to help the sick
people there. The Governor who is like the big dog of the state had
ordered that no one could drive on the roads but the trio’s Mom is so
important he sent her a special pass to drive.While
we were tucked safely in bed with Mommy and Daddy knowing that all of
us were safe Pokey, Maggie and Toby had to stay up all night, worried
about their Mom traveling and worrying about the Buzzard over head
dropping more and more snow and howling like it had it’s foot caught in a
buzzard trap. And
their Mom, while knowing she was safe at work, had to worry about her
babies home alone with no human to protect them if the power went out.
if the temperature dropped or if a neighboring tree came crashing
through the roof. Her work done she hurried home and there was a
wonderful reunion at the door when everyone licked, kissed and hugged
one another in relief knowing they were all safe from the storm. Then
there was one last bad moment for our three friends, they had to to
bound through the snow looking for a place to do their business which I
can tell you from experience was no day at the beach unless their was a
giant buzzard over the beach.While
so many of us on the East Coast were affected by this terrible buzzard
we were all able to ride it out together. Aunt Laura and her babies had
to do it apart and that is why we recognize them and are sending them
virtual hugs and kisses. May you never go through another bad storm
apart.

Thursday, February 7, 2013

For
five years I have worked very hard to become housetrained. Last year I
made a vow: No more embarrassing pee puddle, no more wet spots on the
rug, no more boom booms left on the kitchen floor. With concentration,
and learning to control the muscles in my netherlands, I became
housebroken and put aside my blue denim diaper forever.I was a Pocket triumphant. Then came winter, and I was left to wonder why had I ever bothered to become housebroken at all?Foley
has always told me to watch the humans and learn from their strange
ways. She says she learned housebreaking while still a pup and now it is
a behavior she cannot unlearn. When I was going in the house Foley
would publically call me unprofessional but privately she told me that
humans didn’t go outside and I shouldn’t either.I
wished I had learned from her. I have gone from a life of getting out
of my warm bed and taking a whizz in the corner to getting out of my
warm bed, putting on a slight jacket, going into the freezing cold,
where, not only am I supposed to urinate and risk getting frozen to the
ground but then I have to get into the least protected position in the
animal kingdom, the poo squat, and while I relieve my bowels for all the
world to see I have no protection from wind, rain, ice, and evasive
squirrel. The
Daddy comes in the house, walks into the warm bathroom, does his
business, and flushes it away. I asked Daddy why I can’t pee in the
bowl and he says it’s because we haven’t evolved like he has. I guess
he’s right because when I have to pee or poo I need to revolve in a
circle and it’s a rule of nature that, if you have to revolve you will
never evolve.Tomorrow
night they are predicting that we will be getting four Foleys of snow
which is a lot of snow. Humans will be making extraordinary efforts to
ensure that every human is safe inside during the storm. While this is
occurring we will be taken outside and stand with nothing protecting us
just to pee.And to think I had to learn to do this. If there is one thing I have learned from this is to never learn again.

Tuesday, February 5, 2013

First,
before I begin my rant, I would like to thank my friend’s Cassie’s Dad
for bringing this story to my attention. It ran in today’s New York
Times, and, sadly, it is true.And now, I rant.The
Bundesrat, which is the upper house of Parliament in Germany and not,
as I had originally believed, the German manufactured car driven by the
Pillsbury Dough Boy, voted on Friday to criminalize “using an animal for
personal sexual activities” and to punish the humans that do so with
fines of as much as $34,000$34,000?
Let me tell you buddy, if I don’t know you and haven’t given you a good
sniffing I wouldn’t let you stroke my tail for $34,000. No wonder they
called the Nazi march goose stepping, they had to get their legs that
high to mount the goose. I guess when Hitler’s few defenders said he was
OK because he loved his dogs they meant he really loved his dogs.Amongst
the new regulations contained in this legislation is: “using an animal
for personal sexual activities or making them available to third parties
for sexual activities and thereby forcing them to behave in ways that
are inappropriate to their species” is no longer legal. And this law was
passed is 2013? I know pimpin’ ain’t easy but it should be a little
harder than taking the dog for a walk and leaving it tied to a lamppost
then hoping for the best.Apparently
there is a group who opposed the Bundesrat legislation. They are known
as zoophiles and they are represented by Michael Kiok who claims that
animals are perfectly capable of expressing whether or not they desire
sex. That is true, and, as a representative of dogs everywhere let me
state our expression is “Oh hell no!”David
Zimmermann, an animal caretaker who is also a director of the zoophilie
group, says that he had a sexual relationship with his Great Dane until
it passed away. He said “It’s a sexual aspect that is entirely foreign
to most people. They just see a man and think, ‘What terrible things is
he doing to that dog?’ ” Yes, they do, now step away from the dog!Let
me sum up by saying that we call you Mommy and Daddy for a reason. If
you wouldn’t do that to your children don’t be doing it to us, and if
you would be doing to your children then you got problems no dog can
solve.And
my friends, if a human ever comes at you with that intention, well, I
wouldn’t tell you to bite the hand that feeds you but everything else is
fair game.

Sunday, February 3, 2013

We
have several friends of are very accomplished in their deeds but none
of them have become successful in the human world. My friend Hobo
Hudson has done what we thought was impossible. He has entered the
human world and has conquered it. While I am a very successful dog
lawyer I only represent other dogs. But Hobo has surpassed me. He is
drawing income from actual humans.

Hobo
has written a book. He did it by using words. He didn’t see an open
book on the floor and pee on it, then claimed the novel as his own
because he had bookmarked it. He did not take a giant poo in a book (I
did this once halfway through Moby Dick. American classic my butt. Who
wants to read 300 pages on whale blubber?) No, he put paw to pen (or
keyboard, he is very secretive about his methods,) and now he is an
author.

The book is called The Richest Dog in Town and can be bought at Amazon here.
We have not had a chance to dig our paws into the book yet but we are
looking forward to doing so. If you would like to get an idea of
Hobo’s very creative storytelling technique you can read his blog here.

Hobo
is a very wise dog who has figured out how to turn some of our natural
enemies, squirrels, cats, and other things that most of us chase away,
and make them work for him. He has squirrels working for him in his
farming business and he has a large number of cats working for him,
including his personal assistant Thomas. Plus no one knows more about
the dog bone futures market than Hobo.

Hobo
is a very stay at home dog. Many of the older members of DS will
remember him, but, when issues with the former owners made many of us
leave, and join the upstart Tanner Brigade, Hobo led the way. While
some stayed at DS, and others, like my sister and I, came back, to DS,
Hobo has been happy at the small town Tanner Brigade, like a gentleman
farmer sitting on the front porch with no need to ever leave town.

His
parents don’t do Facebook either. They are too busy helping Hobo with
his businesses to spend much time social networking. But we don’t want
his brilliance to be hidden in the shadow, and it is our honor to
bring it into the light.

Hobo’s
writings never fails to raise a smile even on the sourest of pusses.
His stories are very clever, his writing very clean and professional.
This is a book you will read and want to share, but don’t share,
because Hobo needs as money book sales as he can get.

So
here is to my friend Hobo, who went from a dog left abandoned, tied to
a tree, to a soon to be best selling author. His book is called The
Richest Dog in Town and he is, because he is such a gentleman and a good
friend, even if he couldn’t write, he would be rich with friends and
love.

Tails From Rainbow Bridge

About Me

This page was founded in 2007 by Foley Monster. She was joined by her sister Pocket Dog. In 2013 Foley took a job as a Judge at Rainbow Bridge where she continues to blog. The newest family member, River Song joined us a short time later